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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163051">Slipped My Mind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymccoy/pseuds/sleepymccoy'>sleepymccoy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Communication, Flirting, Fluff, Fluffy Angst, Going on Dates, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, THIS IS NOT AN AMNESIA FIC, its kinda a five one fic but its seven one, its t rated cos i swear and im never sure if ive sworn in a fic, of the non handjob type, slice of life sort of stuff, theres a lot of cute and so on, they just sorta forget out of habit and ansentmindedness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:01:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163051</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymccoy/pseuds/sleepymccoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There's this post on tumblr that pointed out hoe Aziraphale and Crowley had quite a few years of habit to break in order to be in a consistent, healthy relationship. So I wanted to write some of those moments as they both, or one or the other, forget for a moment that they're allowed to touch or that they're together at all<br/>Anyway, this is seven times they forgot and one time they didn't</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>349</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Bench</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley let his arm fall along the back of the bench causally. He liked to be close to Aziraphale, and he liked to look cool and sexy, so this was a good two birds one stone sort of a situation for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grinned as Aziraphale fussed with his pants for a moment before sitting exactly where Crowley had prepared for him to sit. Crowley pretended not to watch, sunglasses were a kind thing, but enjoyed just how close the back of Aziraphale's neck was to his hand. Mere inches. Centimetres if he let his fingers fall differently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a slight movement of air over his wrist as Aziraphale turned his head quickly to watch a bird fly by. Some of the curls on the nape of Aziraphale's neck brushed his thumb and Crowley shivered from it. Contact. Fleeting and slight, but there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He considered laughing at himself for how keenly he felt the lightest touch, but that would likely raise difficult questions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley looked away instead, his eyes lazily following the dance of a kite in the air.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Lovely day," Aziraphale commented.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley hummed in agreement, a touch too taken in yearning to be able to speak. He ached to slide his hand that last inch lower and run his fingers over Aziraphale's neck. Maybe even into his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needed to feel the angel's hair now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn't risk speaking, he could easily say something foolhardy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm glad we came out today," Aziraphale added.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Crowley mumbled. He glanced at Aziraphale, hoping against hope to avoid observation. He was in luck, the angel sat looking forwards calmly, not a jot aware of the demon wishing to climb into his lap and be held.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needed a touch, just a moment of touch. He moved his arm, meaning to withdraw completely and accidentally drag a few fingers across the back of Aziraphale's neck as he left. An easy intimacy to forgive, an innocent one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the first brush of fingers to skin, Aziraphale flinched. It was small, but Crowley saw it. He was attuned to it, built to notice Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale's shoulders raised in defensiveness, his head tucking in a hunched bow as he drew in a quick and uncomfortable breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley snapped his hand to his side, doing away with any thoughts of a prolonged touch. "Sorry," he offered quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" Aziraphale asked. His eyes were immediately wide and innocent, but his lips relaxed their strain and his shoulders dropped in familiar relief. Crowley had overstepped, but was being given a chance to have it forgotten rather than forgiven. He would take the offering</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nothin'," Crowley lied easily, although his finger still tingled where he'd touched Aziraphale. "Jus' slipped."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale relaxed further and smiled at him. "Silly thing," he said warmly. Crowley's heart thudded more quietly, although it didn't slow its panic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait-" Aziraphale started. He faced Crowley sharply. "Dear- ?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's heart sank. He was known. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Aziraphale's hand was on his knee and Crowley's mind stopped working altogether. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A breath passed as Crowley stared at the angel's ring, worn for aeons. A line of feathers under a lion- not much of a lion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just a squiggle really.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or a snake…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's breath left him as the comfort of memory rushed back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ugh, I'm an idiot," he groaned, pressing his hands to his head as he leaned back on the bench dramatically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I slept badly and it's been a weird morning, what with the whole bakery thing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"For me too, dear."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley tipped his head to the side and saw Aziraphale, fond and sad. He reached out, because he could, he was allowed, and touched the light and curly hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers fell into his curls easily, familiarly. As they had many times before in the last months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley smiled, for he was sated and calm. Aziraphale smiled too, for whatever reasons he chose. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aziraphale turned the last page and looked fondly down at the blank pages at the end of the book. He reminisced and felt the finish, the incongruous last pages, the loss of meaning, the return to the cruelty of real life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled, glad Narnia was just as he remembered it being when he'd first read it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stretched, hummed, and stood. The book ought to be kept in a different spot now it had been read twice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A tune entered his mind, so he hummed it and hoped he would find the record it was from when he went looking for it. He placed the book up high, to return to much later. Or perhaps it should take a table, there had been a passage he thought Crowley might enjoy, a causal memory if it's on a table, too serious if it's on a shelf. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But reading aloud to Crowley may be a step too far no matter where the book was stored. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He left it on the shelf.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale faced the dusty, drowsy shop with a contented huff. He breathed in fully, tasting the day, felt a tickle in his nose, then sneezed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a quick shake of his head he refocused on the shop and was scared out of his socks when a figure sat up on his couch and yelled shortly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale shrieked and leapt back, although he was already meters away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The figure yelped and tumbled from the couch, his red hair and familiar vocal chords introducing him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale's heart beat fast, panicked and furious. "What are you doing here?" he shouted at Crowley, clutching his chest in a hope for calm as he stalked towards the couch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Blerk," croaked Crowley from the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What if I'd had guests, you mustn't do this! You scared the blazers out of me!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Didn't-" Crowley muttered. Aziraphale rounded the couch and saw the pitiful demon, regret filling him for shouting him awake. But still. Why was he here?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I dunno!" Crowley said. He sat up and glared at Aziraphale. "I fell asleep! Perfectly demonic behaviour, s'basically squatting, innit?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But what if my colleagues had come by, hmm? With you on my couch?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley glared, his glasses nowhere to be seen. Aziraphale, ever the master of dissonance, found a moment to admire Crowley's eyes while not breaking his foul expression. Crowley must not be allowed to feel welcome like this, it was too risky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"S'your fault, right? Boring me to sleep talking about- about- oh, fuck."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About. Oh dear. Aziraphale began to remember their conversation. Beaches. About going to a beach. Together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just for a while. A holiday. A romantic getaway, Crowley had mumbled as he slipped further into the couch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had sounded lovely, and Aziraphale had said as much. Then Crowley had happily threatened to lock him in a cupboard if he didn't put Narnia down and give him a kiss good night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, dear," Aziraphale sighed. For he remembered complaining as he kissed Crowley the night before. And the night before that. And last week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shit," Crowley spat. He sat back, bringing his knees in to lean on so he could let his head fall in his hands. "Forgot again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course you did, darling," Azirpahale said, kneeling to sit with him. He kept a distance, he had just shouted at Crowley and didn't want to push his luck. "I startled you awake, you couldn't have had a chance."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley looked up, his head low between his knees. He smiled glumly. "Sorry," he offered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Aziraphale insisted. "I'm sorry. Dearest, of course you're welcome to sleep here whenever you wish. My mind was decades away, I simply- I- I didn't-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Old habits," Crowley supplied. He huffed a hollow laugh. "Hard to break."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's eyes were wide and hopeful, watching him closely. Aziraphale reached out slowly, giving Crowley a chance to dodge or complete the movement himself. He did neither until Aziraphale touched Crowley's knee with the tips of his fingers, then Crowley hand appeared and wrapped around his, holding his hand tight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Our new habits are easier to enjoy," Aziraphale whispered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You sappy, preposterous bastard," Crowley said, his smile simply enormous.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Ice Cream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The line was long and the day hot. Crowley's foot tapped, then paused, then tapped more impatiently as the lady two ahead of him continued to hem and haw her order.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He waved a hand and put holes in her stockings. Unsightly ones that she wouldn't notice for a few hours. Then she changed her mind again and he gave her phone an unavoidable, undelayable update that would take more than an hour to compete and lower the battery charge permanently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then she couldn't pay. Crowley hissed. May all your shoes be half a size too small. May your husband ogle other women in front of you. May your ball of knitting wool run inconveniently short forever more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiled apologetically at the line as she passed. Crowley simpered a sarcastic response and made her dog shed a little more than average for the breed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of the queue moved quickly, likely from a sense of implacable dread if they chose not to rush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley ordered his soft serve and flake, and quietly blessed the raspberry lolly to be more flavourful than its make. Aziraphale always said ice cream was better when Crowley fetched it, and he was right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was waiting by the lake edge, muttering promises to the ducks that he had no bread left to give, no matter how sad a face they may pull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eh," Crowley warned as he held out the icy pole. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, thank you," Aziraphale said warmly as he took the lolly. Crowley watched out of the corner of his eye and was treated to an indulgent smile, and the sight of the first lick. Languid, wet, eager, ending in a quiet hum that rocked Crowley to the core. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley turned away and focused on his ice cream, searching for something to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dear," Aziraphale began slowly, like he was speaking a thought as it formed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something touched Crowley's hand, so he jerked away. He turned to see, ready to yell at whatever dog had come up to him. But Aziraphale's hand was there. Trying again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fingers brushed his knuckles, unrushed and gentle. Crowley dodged the touch carefully and studied Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale didn't seem worried, rather he was staring off over the lake mindlessly. "I was wondering-" he continued, not paying a moment's mind to Crowley's confusion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you doing?" Crowley whispered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale turned, eyebrows raised curiously. "What do you- oh." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He frowned and Crowley regretted asking. He felt responsible for a mistake, more than just anxiety, he knew he'd done something wrong. It was all slightly off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's head felt tight. Aziraphale's fingers brushed against his hand again and he didn't pull away, it didn't really feel like he should.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Think about it for a moment, my dearest," Aziraphale muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley remembered like he'd never forgotten. It simply slipped into place and had always been known. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ach," he groaned. He closed his eyes, not wanting the swift forgiveness Aziraphale's expression offered. He ought to have a moment of punishment, at least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Quite alright, dear," Aziraphale said matter of factly. Fingers tangled with purpose and Crowley's hand was held. Then, for the fourth time that day, Aziraphale raised their hands and kissed Crowley's knuckles gently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley opened his eyes and cocked a grin. "What were you wondering?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale smiled indulgently, then quickly chased a drop of icy pole that threatened to fall. "Well, I noticed a few hot air balloons this morning…"</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Cafe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aziraphale noticed Crowley look away. He noticed because he had been watching for it, peering closely at a delicately placed spoon that reflected a curved and morphed image of Crowley from across their small shared table. He couldn't look directly at Crowley, of course, that was improper. So he made do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that Crowley had turned away, however, Aziraphale could take his fill for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The colour of the stained glass window rested on Crowley's face, lit by the sun. Small yellow and green diamonds shone on his forehead, reflecting off his glasses. A beautiful decal for this cafe, made more so by Crowley. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked calm. And happy. Aziraphale's heart swelled at the thought. What could be making Crowley so happy, Aziraphale wondered. They were out together but they sat more publicly than usual. That should be stressful, not comfortable. They sat by a large window with stained edges, on a busy street, visible to anyone who may walk by.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How could Crowley smile so obviously here? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he was smiling. And beautifully, in the sun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale bit his lip absentmindedly, and found a touch of jam from his scone. He licked at it and found himself falling, shamefully, into a brief imagining of Crowley's lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He flushed at the first inkling of thought, but still the image came. Crowley leaning across, that smile in place, mouth opening, lips pressing to Aziraphale's-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, he needed to get a handle on this. He faced his scone and forced his focus in on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley turned, he saw it in the reflection of the spoon again, and leaned an elbow to the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Come closer, Aziraphale thought ridiculously. Kiss me, old friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not likely, he told himself harshly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was listening to this podcast yesterday-" Crowley started, but he stopped, his head tilting curiously. "Are you okay?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" Aziraphale asked. "Yes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You look a little-" Crowley waved his hand vaguely, indicating something was wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"A touch of indigestion," Aziraphale lied, "nothing to worry about."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you want something else? Tea? Or maybe a walk?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, no," Aziraphale said. He was confused, something niggling at his mind. Why were they sitting so openly? What made them think they could get away with it? Next to a cathedral, no less.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley continued to look concerned while Aziraphale chased the thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They'd arrived, and Crowley had let go of his hand to pull a chair out. So Crowley had chosen their table, Aziraphale had simply followed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wait, they'd been holding hands as they walked in. Resignation washed over Aziraphale as he realised what he'd forgotten. Again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, dear me," Aziraphale muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" Crowley breathed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rather than answer, Aziraphale stood and took the moment he'd forgotten he could have. He imagined his expression would have to be rather intense, an imagining that was backed up by Crowley's slightly panicked squeak of, "Angel?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Aziraphale didn't want to waste a second explaining, so instead he simply bent at the waist and kissed Crowley. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley kissed him back, of course, his mouth curling into a smile as he did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Is that all you wanted?" Crowley teased as Aziraphale stood up straight again, ending the kiss. "You could've just said."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Slipped my mind," Aziraphale said, his smile tight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's mouth fell open like he had something to say, but as a moment of silence was followed by seconds of pointless croaking from the demon, Aziraphale spoke instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come sit closer to me," he suggested, "I'd like to touch you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chair was bolted to the ground, but all four spontaneously gave out as Crowley dragged it over. They sat comfortably the rest of the meal, Crowley whittering on about his podcast while Aziraphale enjoyed his cake with one fork, his other hand busy resting on Crowley's thigh. A place too intimate to allow him to forget.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Drive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley pressed the pedal. It was always so distracting having the angel here. In the car. Close. He needed to pull his full focus, and tearing down the street like a maniac was one of the few things that did that for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he sped. And he kept the speed up as he turned corners. And he wrangled traffic lights into being green for him. And he forced pedestrians out of the way so he wouldn't have to slow for even a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he ignored the gasps and glares from the passenger seat. He ignored the mutters and the way Aziraphale whined his name, the complaining tone familiar enough to make it fond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ignored it even when Aziraphale's tone grew less put out and more angry. That is, until his foot was flat in the ground and a hairpin turn coming up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They made it through safely, because of course they did, Crowley was driving, but Aziraphale yelled as only an angel can.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Crowley, we have an agreement!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What agreement?" Crowley threw back, although he did take his foot off the accelerator. No braking, though, Aziraphale didn't need to know he was being respected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He may have pushed it a little with that last corner, anyhow. The Bentley had skipped a few beats of Fat Bottomed Girls. But really, Aziraphale looked so wonderful tonight, Crowley needed a distraction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The agreement," Aziraphale spat, his shirt quite literally straining from his muscles as he held the brace by his head. "Where you don't get us killed, and I don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>break up with you!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley pressed the brake at that. The memory trickled in like it always did, but this time it sickened him. He'd broken a promise. He'd promised Aziraphale that he wouldn't go more than double a limit, and he'd always slow down at least ten percent for corners. And he hadn't, he hadn't, he'd-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Crowley whispered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I should say so!" Aziraphale agreed loudly, furiously. "The most outrageous- what brought that on?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley sidled into a park, slipping perfectly in place and quickly turning the engine off. He didn't look at Aziraphale, he couldn't bring himself to just yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What brought that on, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, far more softly. The final putter of the engine quietened and all that was left was the rain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Won't happen again," Crowley promised, although he knew he couldn't. He couldn't promise Aziraphale anything. If he couldn't fucking remember-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Did you forget for a moment?" Aziraphale asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley swallowed, his chest was tight. He nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well that's alright then, I forgive you," Aziraphale said primly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Angel," Crowley groaned, his tone pained. He wanted something else, not forgiveness. Not punishment, either, but something. Accountability, perhaps. Or maybe punishment, if he were being honest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dearest-" Aziraphale began, but it was too matter of fact, to willing to move on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll jus' be a sec'," Crowley interrupted, scrabbling at the door handle. "Stay here, it's dry."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wind hit him first, but the rain quickly took priority. It was pouring, and cold. Fat drops hit his face, blurring his glasses and soaking his hair and jacket in seconds. Crowley took a tight breath, then another, and his chest began to relax. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leant against the car door heavily, letting it take his full weight, and tipped his head back. Water ran down his face. The rain was painfully heavy, falling with a speed that stung on impact, the freezing cold drip breaking through the fuzzy numbness that had already started to take his skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he could breathe, and he calmed, and he found some forgiveness for himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Crowley, what-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Angel!" Crowley cried out, interrupting him again. He pulled an umbrella from his pocket, or more accurately from an elephant foot by his apartment's foyer, and quickly flung it open to hold out above Aziraphale's head. The poor angel was drenched, hair plastered to his face and coat darkened with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You'll catch your death," Crowley admonished, "what are you doing?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'll catch my death?" Aziraphale repeated, disbelieving. He stepped closer and wrapped his hand over Crowley's, pushing the umbrella into place over them both. "Dear, you're cold-blooded, you're already shivering."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I just needed a moment," Crowley muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale stepped closer again, getting entirely in Crowley's personal space. He shuffled his legs wide and clamped Crowley's legs between his, then pressed his chest to Crowley's front. A huff of warm breath on Crowley's neck betrayed Aziraphale's intention to warm his demon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley stood and let Aziraphale's warmth do battle with the cold of the street. An arm wrapped around Crowley's waist, damp against his dry lower back but warmer than the metal of the car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I don't like forgetting," Crowley whispered. It was easier to whisper these sorts of things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale hummed and for a moment his warming breath became a kiss of lips. "Nor do I." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stood a moment longer as the vicious wind ripped through them and the last vestiges of warmth slipped from Crowley. He stopped shivering, his body too cold even for that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let's go to your apartment," Aziraphale suggested. He kissed Crowley, briefly but deeply. Heat spread through Crowley, more than what should from a kiss, no matter how good, and Crowley suspected a miracle. He began to shiver again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We can set a fire and dry off together," Aziraphale said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sure," Crowley agreed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale pulled Crowley's fingers from the umbrella and held it aloft as Crowley numbly found his way back into the driver's seat. He cranked the heater up as Aziraphale made his way around the front of the car and by the time the angel sat he had enough flexibility in his joints to drive to his flat. He carefully obeyed all road signs the whole way there, keen to make it up to Aziraphale even a little bit. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Museum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The museum attendant held the door open for Crowley, then waited patiently for Aziraphale to finish closing the latch on his bag and catch up. Aziraphale thanked her and went to bless her, but tripped over the effort as possible side effects occurred to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He walked through, then slowed to a stop and stood thinking as Crowley swanned out of view. If he gave the attendant a good day, the museum would experience a loss in revenue. He didn't want to do that. If he gave her an unexpected windfall she would spend it inappropriately in gambling. If he gave her a moment of kindness from a stranger she would work herself into an anxious frenzy trying to pay it back. If he improved her meal she wouldn't eat it, rather share it with those around her and go hungry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How odd, he so rarely struggled to find the right blessing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale walked slowly through the gallery, not seeing the artworks as he continued to mull over the consequences of every good thing that occurred to him to give. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found Crowley staring up at a brontosaurus skeleton, chuckling to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's a bit silly, isn't it?" Aziraphale muttered absently, his mind still on more important matters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The neck is just ridiculous," Crowley said joyfully. He stepped to the side, closer to Aziraphale, presumably going on to circle Aziraphale as he occasionally did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale glanced behind him, still unable to find a good blessing for the attendant. Couldn't give her son good grades, he was struggling in school and there was too much riding on it. A clear run on the subway home would inconvenience too many other people and have a sum negative result. Offering her a discount on her shop would cause a loss in revenue for the shop that they couldn't handle in this economy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's shoulder pressed into Aziraphale's chest, pulling him back into the moment. Aziraphale startled and turned back to face Crowley, staring wildly as he leaned his back against Aziraphale's left arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale squeaked, aware that the sound was ridiculous but unable to do anything to help himself. What an incomprehensible thing for Crowley to do. He hurried back, getting away from the touch as quickly as he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley stumbled, having apparently expected Aziraphale to stay there thoroughly enough to be unbalanced by his departure. "Wha- hey!" Crowley grumbled as he righted himself, turning with open arms. He didn't look mad, just confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale folded his arms, feeling rather confused himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The fuck did I do?" Crowley asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well, I mean-" Aziraphale tried. His lip wobbled. "I mean-" He hated to say no to Crowley, but the demon so often did these things that Aziraphale just had to refuse. And it had been shaping up to be such a nice day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Crowley sighed. His arms lowered. "Hey, angel, I love you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale's heart thudded once, then dropped through his guts and down the stairs. Swiftly followed by his stomach. He said it, they couldn't take that back now. It was with them, inappropriate and demanding acknowledgement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You-" Aziraphale whispered, filling with dread. Crowley stepped towards him, so Aziraphale stepped away. "Don't!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Aziraphale, love," Crowley said, laughing. Laughing! Laughing at him, in this moment! Aziraphale glared at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley raised his hand in surrender. "Think about it!" he entreated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was thinking about it. He held a finger up, angry beyond words at Crowley. He supposed it was just another secret, really, and not one he had to admit to reciprocating. And Gabriel hardly quizzed him on romantic dealings, so it shouldn't be hard to keep quiet on the matter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now it was a topic between them, and Aziraphale was going to have to refuse Crowley. Why would Crowley stay after that? Aziraphale had so little to offer him already, he was rarely kind, rarely generous, at least he had had the unknown secret of his love. But now Crowley wanted to remove the mystery, have his rejection and be done with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale's breath began to struggle as he considered Crowley leaving. Would this be it? Would this make him leave at last? One last lie to cut the cord.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would it be as bad as the holy water debacle? Or more like the bandstand? How embarrassing that memory was. Crowley had forgiven him as needed for the apocalypse, but it had been awkward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They'd figured it out, of course. And had. Kissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale stilled as more information filtered through his mind. He spoke before his thoughts finished, exasperation filling him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You evil, vicious, nasty little snake!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley grinned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That is not how we're going about this!" Aziraphale said. "Do you have any idea how panicked that made me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, angel, c'mon," Crowley crooned, "how could I resist?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You could have resisted," Aziraphale pressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley flashed a pitiable frown, but it returned to a smile in short order. He swayed and moved closer, his steps smooth and unchallenging. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"But I love you," Crowley insisted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't try that, I know that!" Aziraphale snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley reached him, staying on the edge of too close. "You were panicked?" He asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale pulled his crossed arms in tighter, scowling at the unforgivable demon. "Of course."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why?" Aziraphale repeated, flabbergasted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I mean, you love me back, right? What's there to panic about?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale sighed, fondness clamouring at the edges of his frustration. It was one of the many curses he lived with now, he simply couldn't hold a grudge any longer. He used to be a master of grudge-holding, but now no matter what Crowley did to annoy him, it would be forgiven within minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale dropped his crossed arms and wrung his hands instead. "Yes, of course I love you back, and I did then, too-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So what's the problem?" Crowley interrupted, although his light, carefree tone had withered into something that acknowledged there was a problem at last.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I would never have said it, Crowley. I was gearing up to refuse you then, even, and why would- why-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's fingers wrapped around Aziraphale's worried hands, holding him tightly. "Of course you would, I know to expect that, angel. I was just goofing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can't risk refusing you," Aziraphale whispered. "Not so completely, not after such honesty."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's lips brushed his forehead in a soft kiss. "What could I possibly have done to make you worry like this?" He asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You'd-" Aziraphale sighed. Crowley would get the truth out of him. If he hedged now it would simply come up later, when they were comfortably tangled up on the couch or sharing a pastry at breakfast. Crowley was dog-minded about these things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Might as well just admit it now and be done with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why would you stay?" Aziraphale asked.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, angel," Crowley whispered. He disentangled one hand from Aziraphale's and raised it to filter into Aziraphales hair fondly. They stood, close to each other, heads tipped onto the others shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You might not like this, Aziraphale, but you've rejected me plenty of time. I've always come back, always will," Crowley said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well," Aziraphale said, feeling more than a little like he'd been punched in the guts. "I don't mean to go about refusing you any longer. I don't appreciate nearly having done so now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Right," Crowley agreed. "Right you are, sorry about that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Quite alright. And just so it's said, I love you too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley laughed and cooperated with Aziraphale's eager tug on his shirt for a kiss.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Bridge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They reached the bridge. It made Crowley uncomfortable. Well, actually he was just feeling generally uncomfortable but that didn’t seem very much like it was worth paying attention to, so he decided it was the bridge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a beautiful day, all sunshine and smog. Crowley stepped quickly, out of pattern with his steps thus far to get to a crunchy leaf before Aziraphale did. He crunched it, it was satisfactorily crunchy, then turned to find Aziraphale had paused at the top of the bridge to lean over the edge. Aziraphale turned to him, as if sensing that he was looked upon, and grinned, open and happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley hesitated, then snarled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows, but his smile remained unaffected. He nodded his head, indicating that Crowley should approach. A summoning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Crowley glared, then approached, as summoned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Crowley greeted as rudely as he could manage. The bridge was still making him uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look there-" Aziraphale paused and flashed his gaze over Crowley, managing to look concerned and dismissive at once. "You’re in a funk- there, you can see the ducks, yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley ignored the heat in his abdomen and turned his glare onto the ducks. "Yes," he admitted. No getting out of that one, he could see the ducks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hand pressed against his lower back. Aziraphale's hand, as they stood side by side on the bridge, looking out over the lake. Aziraphale touched his lower back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley froze and stopped seeing. His eyes were open but all he knew was the pressure on his back. The warmth of angelic fingers. The way the texture of his shirt pressed against his skin, pushed by Aziraphale.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"And just a bit further along," Aziraphale continued, pointing off at something Crowley had no interest in following. "There's that lovely black swan, I swear to you, dear, that thing comes approaching whenever you get here. Look at it, swimming with intent towards us now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley stayed still through this. He didn't know what Aziraphale was thinking in touching him like this, but he wasn't likely to interrupt it. He catalogued the feeling, then told himself off for doing so and tried to feel it simply, to let it wash over him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That swiftly all got a little much and he went back to cataloguing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had been quiet for a few moments, so Crowley faced him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Aziraphale sighed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley saw again, bringing his focus in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's nice to see those out," Aziraphale muttered. His hand left Crowley's back and Crowley considered grief, then considered revolution. He did neither, however. In fact he did nothing but realise he hadn't breathed and so took a breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Aziraphale's hand landed on Crowley's jaw, resting comfortably so his pinky touched Crowley's neck. His ring was cold against Crowley's skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley had no idea what expression might be on his face, but he was sure it wasn't calm. His heart hammered and the edges of his vision swam with threatening blackness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Aziraphale repeated, more gently. The hand left and Crowley swayed, reaching blindly for the bridge barrier to hold onto. Maybe he could insist he was allergic to something he'd eaten, explain his odd behaviour away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except he wasn't being odd. Aziraphale was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Let me tell you about a night we shared a while ago, my dear," Aziraphale said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in sharply to clear his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"If I was there then I was there, don't need to hear about it," Crowley muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hadn't eaten. He couldn't pretend he was allergic to any food, he hadn't bloody eaten. He should start eating, it was a handy, ready-made excuse for odd behaviour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm going to tell you anyway," Aziraphale said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I bet you are."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I asked you to come over, but you were late of course."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley sighed and lowered his hand. He could begin to ignore his feelings now that they were just talking. Focus on distracting, deal with himself later. "I get itchy when I'm on time," he mumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I suspect that psychosomatic."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley hummed and glanced at Aziraphale. He was wicked, a small smile, a cheery glint in his eye. How could he be so composed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Although it was lovely that he was so composed. A drop of comfort trickled down Crowley's spine, relaxing him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The black swan reached them and squawked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I disagree," Crowley muttered. He looked down at his hands and saw the ring that lived on his pointer finger. Aziraphale's old ring, gold with wings. He blinked slowly, acknowledged it, and smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Anyway," Aziraphale said, "you arrived and I had this whole plan."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale's hands rested on the bride's barrier near Crowley's, fluttering and punctuating his words with aborted gesticulations. Crowley had no idea what night they were discussing, but he didn't really mind. He just looked at his not quite husband (they'd exchanged rings and promises, but now vows yet, it was a very particular line they walked).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I was going to take you out for dinner, a Mexican place with big margaritas and the sort of chilli you enjoy. Then a stroll home by the river, I meant to take your hand again, you know."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, once that usually meant it was Crowley's turn to speak. So he found something to say, although it seemed insufficient.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You did?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Then the shop for dessert," Aziraphale continued quickly, "and a drink, and there I could find a way to get from the hand holding to discussing it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley slipped closer to Aziraphale, easily slotting against his side. He wasn't sure what evening they were discussing yet, but it sounded nice enough and he was sure Aziraphale would get to the point eventually. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale hummed and raised his arm, pulling Crowley into place beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"The language was my problem, really," Aziraphale continued, sadly and lovingly, "finding the path to saying it. I wasn't sure I'd manage it that night, even though I had a plan. And indeed, instead I shouted at you for confusing me so much as soon as you walked in, then apologised for far too long until you needled it all out of me." Aziraphale smiled at Crowley tightly. "Hardly romantic," he added.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley laughed, figuring out what Aziraphale was on about. "I didn't know you'd made plans," he said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No," Aziraphale agreed, "how could you? I saw you and took your hand right then, as if that was something we ever did."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I recall, it was confusing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale's smile grew into something fond and heart aching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley knocked the side of his head against Aziraphale's chin gently. "Go on, give me the prepared speech, then."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I hardly remember it now."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley's smile dripped with pitiable adoration. "C'mon, you know I forgot it all for a minute there, it'll make me feel better."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale glanced down at him, derision coming off him in abundance. "You manipulative little shit," he admonished with a laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley grinned. "I like it when you swear."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Don't get used to it."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley slipped closer, pressing up against Aziraphale's side. "Makes me all tingly."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You're sure that's not just your rash from being punctual for lunch today?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There are similarities."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Picnic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The clouds moved slowly through the sky, shifting and changing with the speed of the wind. Leaves were pulled from trees and deposited on the face of one demon who lay on a picnic rug next to a cloud-watching angel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley removed a leaf from his face and smiled. "Who'd'a thunk it, huh?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What's that?" Aziraphale asked, turning his head to face him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley watched the clouds for another moment, spotting something arguably hippo-esque, but not quite hippo-esque to be worth interrupting himself. "This all, this," he said vaguely, waving a hand in the air above hum. "Not me, that's for sure."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Cloud watching?" Aziraphale asked cheekily. "Or picnics in general?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shut up."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale chuckled and returned to facing the sky, hands behind his head comfortably. "You didn't expect it? Not even once?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, you're always so rejection-y," Crowley said, exaggerating the word in an effort to prove it was meant kindly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not anymore."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley hummed, the tone full of warmth, and rolled onto his side to face Aziraphale. "Remind me," he suggested.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale, in his turn, faced Crowley again. "Have you forgotten?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I think it's finally seeped into my skin. You know skin only lasts about a month?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you talking about?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley waved a hand vaguely. "Every twenty-something days it all drops off and grows again."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale frowned. "You're thinking of shedding, you're a snake."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No, s'a human thing," Crowley grouched. Then he rolled further towards Aziraphale, landing one arm on the angel's chest and resting there with familiarity. "My skin is generations old since we first kissed. It's forgotten to even whisper to its next in line that it once didn't know what it's like to be touched by you. You touch me so constantly, I've lost forgetting."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale smiled, then grinned. "It's been some time since it slipped my mind, too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So, you going to remind me?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Remind you of what?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why all this is possible."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What?" Aziraphale asked, clearly confused. "Because I love you?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crowley smile grew, as did his hiss. He began to hiss before he spoke, but the word he said exacerbated it remarkably. "Yesss."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale's expression softened and he leaned in to press a quick kiss to Crowley's nose. "I love you," he said, more meaningfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I love you," Crowley replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Silly thing," Aziraphale muttered, an admonishment in his tone but not his words. "I adore you."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wonderful."</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oof there's a fluffy ending for you all &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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